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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27015886">first year(s)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/byunkies/pseuds/byunkies'>byunkies</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>??? - Freeform, Character Study, Coming of Age, Retrospective, there are no names yall are gonna have to figure out whos who, this is literally just word vomit, word vomit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:34:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>570</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27015886</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/byunkies/pseuds/byunkies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>first years have it so easy. </p><p>easy to friends; easy to grades; easy to love; easy to be alive with no second thoughts of it. </p><p>first year has always been easy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nishinoya Yuu &amp; Tanaka Ryuunosuke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>first year(s)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i cannot stress this enough this is just word vomit LOL. but i liked how i wrote it so here .... is for you !</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>first years have it so easy.</em> </p><p> </p><p>easy to friends; easy to grades; easy to love; easy to be alive with no second thoughts of it. </p><p> </p><p>first year has always been easy -- </p><p> </p><p>being a just-hardly-5'3"-but-still-5'2" loudmouth with tall hair, possible relations with a 5'9"-creeping-5'10" possibly criminal -- is easy. </p><p> </p><p>first year is fun, really: goofing around with the second years during volleyball club and drooling over an unfathomably beautiful team manager -- all fun and games. </p><p> </p><p>and games are fun. they're hot and sweaty and they hurt his pelvis and firsts and wrists, but they're fun. he keeps the game going, that's his job, and he does so good at it. </p><p> </p><p>a shaved head towers over him, and a simple hop brings their clammy hands clasped together and they celebrate, because they did so well in that round. if they win this tie, they win this game and they're closer to something like eternal glory.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>get back in formation, the game's not over yet. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>it soon is. heads hang low dripping beads of sweat and the captain is so persistent that they still did well, they just needed more practice. </p><p> </p><p>he's right. they can't slack off if they want to win. eternal glory is just bullshit, really -- but maybe that victorious aura that hangs around the team until they wake up in the morning and dissolves into a retrospective haze is so much better, and the desire to feel that is so much more prominent than anything else. </p><p> </p><p>spiked balls blocked with buzzing knuckles. </p><p> </p><p>isn't that his job? keep the game going? </p><p> </p><p>first year is fine. he's convinced himself that it can only get better; that he'll soon feel that victory sink in. </p><p> </p><p>and first years are fucking prodigies. </p><p> </p><p>done with hiatus, back to playing, and how the fuck is a duo like that real? how are they only first years, undoubtedly saving the entire team? </p><p> </p><p>one is just barely taller than him (a mere two inches), but they are leveled in volume and energy. first years are so much fun. </p><p> </p><p>second years, now still on his tiptoes for 5'3", whom might be a thug grasping 5'10", unchanged, comfortable in the past. </p><p> </p><p>his hands aren't as bruised as they used to be -- he learned to not slam them down on the floor and to keep them firm, not clenched. his hips are still red-purple-mixed from time to time, but he's practiced. </p><p> </p><p>and that first year adores his libero abilities. ego stroked, confidence soaring, he stands proudly with his hands fixated on his hips. </p><p> </p><p>practice games feel different. they're hopefull -- messy, albeit -- but there's a glimpse of possibility in that first year newborn enthusiasm. tall players, highly agility, prominent skill, a natural feel of the ball practice games feel different because they <em>are</em> different. </p><p> </p><p>he's playing with people who don't solely depend on him. he keeps the game going, <em>and so do they</em>. he's the libero, but when his knuckles might snap, it's not a risk he needs to take. he has a team. he is part of a team, a team that works like fucking cogs rather than separate machinery. </p><p> </p><p><em>first years have it so easy,</em> and that's the truth. first year is when you aren't expected to be the best, but when you seemingly are, things just work differently. </p><p> </p><p>a 5'2" spiky-haired libero meets the hands of a 5'10" wing spiker and they shout at the top of their lungs. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i told yall it would be word vomit!!!!!! thanku for reading tho i appreciate it so very much &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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